


keep the faith

by shepherd



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kink Meme, M/M, Misunderstandings, Okay spoilers in tags from this point on, Past Child Abuse, Relationship Problems, Reunion Sex, Sex, explicitly referred to in case that's upsetting for anyone, unbeta'd and i am Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 21:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: written for the kink meme prompt: ignis is assumed dead, and his companions search and grieve“You’re not alone in grief,” Ignis told him, and with not even a single worried glance towards the tent he leaned up, pressing his lips to Gladio’s chin, nuzzling the broad lines of his jaw. Ignis’ scent overwhelmed him, became his world for one blissful moment. “You’re not alone in loss. Remember that. Take what comfort you can in it.”





	keep the faith

 

When Gladio flicked on the lights of what was without question the shittiest little motel room on their side of Eos, the first thing he saw was Ignis, lounging back against the mattress of the bed closest to the door. His glasses were perched low. His shoes and socks were organized neatly by the front door. There was a vague smile on his face, and contentment sat easily upon him. Such a look was rare.

It was all Gladio needed to see. It was the perfect end to a day brimming, boiling over with anticipation - Ignis was close enough to touch and yet so far. The man had been shooting him glances all day - his secret smiles, playful winks when their charge napped against Gladio's chest. All of the freedom they had been given from the strict political confines of the Crown City had been building up to this very moment, and Gladio could beat down the longing no further. Now the sun had long sunk into the sky. All the aches and pains from pushing the Regalia and sprinting across rough terrain had settled into his muscles. Now it was their time.

Dropping his camping equipment sadly unused to the floor, he rumbled low. Excited as he was to camp under the stars having a bed and his lover by his side was a greater pleasure. Ignis glanced up from his phone, face bathed in light. A grin quirked at the corner of his lips. "Long day, my lord Amicitia?"

The look Gladio gave him could have cowed a behemoth. Here it made Ignis laugh. Placing his phone to one side he folded his glasses and taped them onto the tiny, beat up bedside table. The room was only barely worth their limited gil. Scraps of worn wallpaper littered the floor. Their two beds looked barely big enough to fit children - Ignis only just managed to have only his feet off the edge.

"Are the boys settled?" He asked, always careful, like a parent long suffering at the mercy of overexcited children. Judging by how they laughed and shirked their duties all day, they might as well have been.

Gladio grunted his affirmation. Only then did Ignis' grin stretch. Twisting, he sat up. Holding out his arms he called, "Then come warm me up, my love."

All their years and that flurry remained the same. Twenty three years old and Ignis made him feel like a teenager without fail with only a single smile. 'My love'. Gladio's heart was buoyant, finally at peace.

He laughed, but nothing would stop him from crossing the room. Ignis' arms promised delight. Stripping off his damp tank, he was by the bed in mere strides. "You don't need warming up. I'm fucking roasting alive."

Somehow, Ignis' expression rivalled the impossible cut of his blades. Desire dark eyes looked Gladio up and down. Slow, and pleased. "Best get all that clothing off, then."

Definitely like a teenager, and Gladio growled. He was upon his lover in only a moment. All faded in favour of him. Cupping Ignis' face he ducked down while his lover met him halfway. As always his lips were wondrously soft, carefully cared for and tasting of wild cherries. Ignis applied it every few hours. Always had. For health benefits and cosmetic purposes, he always said when asked. All with the added benefit of driving Gladio wild.

He could easily have kissed him forever and a day, but Ignis broke away first. Sighing against him, he rest his forehead against Gladio's, his hand gracing the solid muscle of his chest. Smiling against his lips he brushed their noses together lightly. "Hello," He said.

The men smelt like his expensive cologne and Gladio's shower gel. Gladio couldn't help his smile. "Hi there."

Their eyes met. Ignis' hands slipped down to Gladio's biceps as if thoughtlessly. Gladio knew better. When in the mood his hands could wander like the worst of them. "Where have you been?" Squeezing softly, he nudged against Gladio's mouth just as carefully. "I missed you."

"Gathering all that shit in the trunk." It was rough to talk with Ignis' lips so close. He had been dreaming of them all day. "You should know. You told me to grab it. Even threatened to cock block me."

"Would be an awful affair, spending most of our gil on Regalia repairs and a motel only to have your precious camping equipment stolen." Slowly, Ignis' fingers began to trace the edges of Gladio's tattoo. The touch might have soothed his stresses but it couldn't stoke his desire. "What a shame it might have been, cursed to share motel rooms for the remainder of the trip."

"We could barely afford this one," Gladio reminded him. It bore no heat. Gladio couldn't channel his salt when Ignis' fingers worked against him. "We should be camping tonight."

Fingers graced his wrists. Gladio's pulse thundered. "But then I wouldn't be able to enjoy you," Ignis murmured, and leaned in to steal another kiss.

It wasn't long before Gladio was atop him. Ignis splayed out, long limbs hanging clear of the bed. Gripping his narrow hips Gladio kisses him hard. Only the night before they had been this way, eager and anticipating and starving for each other. But it was different now; they were free. No more prying eyes in the Citadel. No pretence of separate apartments. They couldn't be together openly but the rules upon them were so rigid that even the slight relaxation felt like the greatest freedom.

For years Gladio felt guilty about sneaking around. Lying to everyone felt wrong. Lying directly to the face of his father and king and prince rendered him anxious and jumpy.

Now he didn't give a damn.

Finally Ignis' hands left him. It stung for only a moment. He fumbled for his shirt buttons instead, still eagerly kissing his lover. "Help me," He murmured through kiss swollen lips. Gladio jumped to obey. Soon enough Ignis' dress shirt slid free, mildly damp with sweat. Ignis smelt faintly of leather and metal- the influence of the Regalia. Gladio couldn't help but wonder how he tasted.

His shirt lay dumped on the floor. Soon enough Gladio's forgotten tank joined it. They would have to be washed. Another time. Tonight they were caught up in each other. When Gladio pressed hot kisses against Ignis' belly the man whined and squirmed. He worked on Ignis' belt buckle and fly determinedly. A naked Ignis was a glorious sight.

Not soon enough he lay bare. Seeing Ignis vulnerable and wanting had Gladio's own pants uncomfortably tight. Gladio ignored his own desire for the moment and stroked over Ignis' strong and smooth thighs, taking in the sight. Barely inches from his face Ignis' cock stood proud, curved against his stomach. Gladio couldn't control his tongue swiping against his dry lips. A flush settled on both their faces and Ignis' cock twitched helplessly.

"I'm gonna take my time with you," Gladio promised, reaching down to palm roughly between his thighs, and Ignis smiled wickedly and spread his legs wide.

x

There was precious little light in Gladio's universe, and the brightest star had been Ignis.

To be an Amicitia was to lie in an early grave. That was the bare bones of it. In that lone way it was simple. It might have meant more than most knew, a horrible and complex and traumatizing thing, and yet it was easy - like water rubbing through a modest stream, like skin growing malleable and flawed as the years trawled by, the hot blood of an Amicitia would well up beneath the desperate fingers of a Caelum. The barefaced tragedy sat colder in Gladio's stomach than he was willing to admit. Even Ignis, someone who had shared in his joy and sorrows, his laughter and his tears did not know the true depths.

Gladio knew pride and honour but days often came where his life seemed unreal. Sometimes he wondered if Noctis felt the same. Out on the bustling streets Gladio would see children giggling high on the shoulders of their fathers. Discomfort would churn his stomach even long after the family disappeared into the crowd; he could never imagine looking up into the face of his father and seeing anything more than a commanding officer. Not even as a boy was Gladio graced with affection. Even when his mother drew him close and pressed sweet kisses against his hairline he knew it was only to fill the aching gap of his father's absence. Clarus rarely made it home and seeing him skulk the halls of home became even rarer when Iris drew her first breath, and his wife her last. A daughter against Clarus' desires, and premature. A sickly child that took his wife and Jared had been forced to clear up the shattered shards of the Amicitia family.

He bore what Clarus lacked. There was little warmth in the line of Clarus' jaw and even less in his obsidian eyes. Jared was a father three times over, his children beginning to try for their own. He did what he could and did so well, but it was Gladio who sheltered his sister from their father's wrathful storm. All urges to protect had been ingrained inside him, conditioned, all his love focused intently on her. It had no other place to go. She would not bear his same suffering - would not meet his fate. Even if destiny pulled their family even further apart, even if Gladio failed in his duty they would have each other- they always would -

When Insomnia fell, it all became so uncertain. Any plan for the future seemed foolhardy. Arrogant, in a way that made Gladio nauseous.

The Amicitia men had made their promises too many years ago to accurately recall. Clarus enjoyed their stories, but there was a shroud of doubt that masked them from view. History was uncertain and liars influenced its tide. All Gladio knew was a life had been traded for another deemed less precious in the eyes of the Gods. He had been a child, sworn to a duty he couldn't comprehend. All Clarus' talk of honour and duty and destiny, and they would both die for a fore father's promise long before they would witness their brave new world.

Figures, Gladio thought, and every breath he drew was bitter.

Ignis was something unpermitted, but it was shared experience that brought them together.

It was not something that easily came to be. There was a long story that precluded their happiness, and it was a story that Gladio ached to tell. Happiness was meant to be shared but theirs was destined to be a secret, forgotten by history but never forgotten by them. Few things connected them but they found that those rare bonds were the strongest of all. They nurtured, albeit with stark differences. Both pushed Noctis to do his best. Ignis kept him brave and Gladio inspired his passions. They were dedicated. Loving -

They may have butted heads as children - but bonds that pulled taut were often the strongest. They could weather hurricanes like no other.

And no hurricane was greater than a father's furious rage. Ignis shied away for months, cautious eyes always on the Lord AmIcitia, but no man could deny himself forever. Not when Gladio was equally as determined. Giving in, Ignis laughed at Gladio's stubbly, ticklish kisses. He moaned with a thick cock inside him, clinging to any part of Gladio he could reach. They kept their dalliances quiet but meaningful. Not a soul suspected. Not even their charge.

And what felt like an eternity ago, long back on their last night in Insomnia, they worked together.

News of the upcoming nuptials sat uneasily inside Gladio. It sat apocalyptic inside Ignis. Noctis and Prompto sat largely unperturbed, Gladio thought, struggling to stay awake in front of a droning television. Some tension lingered between Noctis' brows. It was natural, self made, the kind not even a best friend could wipe clean. It would pass, Gladio thought. But perhaps Ignis would correct him. He always knew Noctis greatest, and his eyes were sharper than the forgotten Astral's itself. Gladio watched the boys carefully nonetheless, sitting up at the kitchen island, and Ignis took immaculate control of his kitchen.

He murmured to himself as he worked. All sorts of reminders, things that must be done. He had all his kitchen knives all ordered by use. Some of them cost as much as Gladio's workout equipment. Ignis liked to keep his workspace as clear as his mind and his hands busy. They were told weeks ago of their journey to Altissia, and Ignis had still been working triple time to prepare. His predictability made Gladio smile.

While he carefully sliced the fresh meat he had selected for their evening meal - Noctis' favourite, one last huzzah - he kept on muttering. Keeping things straight, keeping them cautious. Rules were the thread that guided him through his life, he once claimed, and Gladio knew his political career was one hell of a labyrinth. But any attempt to have Noctis take on his creed failed miserably. Gladio had never seen it that way through his life either and still he sat, watching him work, humming and nodding at all the right times to reassure Ignis that at least someone was listening. Even so Ignis was so deeply rooted in his world of routine that he spoke of things Gladio had long since taken to heart, every single rule they followed. Guide Noct, protect him, keep him safe and for Astral's sake, improve those dreadful manners of his for the Lady Lunafreya. None simple. All vague in the way that made Ignis antsy.

While he chopped and measured he frowned. Often he pushed his glasses back along his nose with the back of his hand. Gladio let him ramble uninterrupted, knowing it was Ignis' way of airing out his mind. Otherwise things would clutter, overwhelm. Repeating his goals was clearing through his mess and Gladio could reap the benefit of listening to his slow, thoughtful voice.  After their time together he knew exactly how to care for Ignis and that was to lay the world at his feet and see what he made of it. It was easy enough to watch how Ignis proceeded and aid him when he stumbled. Sometimes it was as easy as humming and pushing over the right ingredients when Ignis flushed, flustered. Gladio was rewarded with Ignis' lips blooming into a warm if somewhat distracted smile. That was their intimacy.

Life for them was duty. Pleasure came in fleeting moments and the acknowledgement of a job well done. Work hard, play hard. Ignis simply had a habit of working until it nearly tore him down. His days were spent drowning in papers and urgent emails, chasing after workshy colleagues.  His evenings - when free - were his favourite solace. A good meal with greater friends, laughter and even wine if he felt more daring. When they were alone he would read over the day's work and triple check his schedule while Gladio enjoyed his fiction. Their legs would wind together and they would exchange sweet kisses as darkness swept over the still teeming city. That was all they needed.

And then the Empire swept down upon them.

x

They knew what needed to be done. They were pawns in the game since birth and active knights from small children. The rules were etched into their bones and they executed each move perfectly, before the Empire cast half the players from the board in a fit of cruelty. Key players gone in a matter of hours, and no home to return to. Ignis could twist the rules at a whim as well as the best of them but there was no recovering from their play tumbling out of their control.

The days of quiet relaxation and tourist like wonder were far behind them. Weeks after news of the bloodshed stained the morning papers they lay in stunned silence most nights, knowing damn near all they loved was gone. All they had lie in the tent beside them.

Noctis no longer commonly suffered fits of hysteria in the night as he rarely slept. Prompto no longer murmured curious names in the darkness and he was no longer teased mercilessly for each. Ignis spent all hours of the night curled under the sheets and gazing into nothing, tracing the ink in Gladio's skin as his lover pretended to slumber deeply. Often he kissed Gladio's brow and murmured soft words he was often to fearful to say with their charge so close. Gentle I adore you's, whispered, never leave my side's.

All things changed. Ignis commanded the Regalia most often - Noctis sat far too quiet in the back seat, music kept low if playing at all. Gladio's chasing the boys through the woods laughing uproariously became repeated warnings not to follow the path - stick to the shade of the wood, the Empire's dropships will not find us there. Smiles came too rarely and Gladio found himself missing Prompto's constant stream of consciousness ramblings. It was funny how all the things that he took for granted, even annoyed him became all that grounded him. It was so funny it tore and twisted Gladio's throat and stung his eyes.

The King was dead, Gladio's father beside him, Insomnia brutalized with their dreams of peace broken down into the thickest ash that filled their lungs to the brim -

And Gladio would not lose another, not for as long as he lived.

x

Clarus Amicitia died quietly.  It came in one throwaway line in the papers. One sting in the foul ache of tragedy, a ripple in a great splash and all Gladio could think was another soldier down.

The morning paper trembled in his hands. He could feel Ignis' considering, appraising gaze burning him. They alternated between Gladio's unnatural calm and Noctis' churning rage, torn between the two men who held separate pieces of his heart. That was Ignis' problem, Gladio thought. He loved too much and too fierce.

Prompto stood in the corner, hands clasped together. Agony wrung his expression out. Even so he remained the odd man out, the only one who didn't have a stake in this unholy mess. Nervous eyes darted to each of them. "In....Insomnia?"

"We had no way of knowing," Ignis' voice was carefully even. Always the peacekeeper. Sometimes Gladio thought no single soul in a thousand lifetimes could deserve that man and his immortal patience. How Ignis had grown to love him he would never know.

"What?" Noctis floundered, desperate. "Knowing what?"

All they heard in the resulting silence was the sound of water. Gulls screamed high overhead. Life went on. The sun still rose and Gladio's heart still beat. It just felt so feeble. The world had exposed a delicate edge Gladio had not seen before.

Iris, he thought, Jared, Talcott, and it was remarkable that he remained on his feet.

They fought while Gladio's mind spun. Ignis raised his hands in a placating manner and somehow he managed to wrangle a devastated prince, his silver tongue as remarkable as ever. His composure was impressive as much as it was horrifying. All the while Gladio thought of eyes, dark as chips of black ice. Those he would never see again. As said; all papers could not be wrong. There was no part of him that thought, what if?

Clarus lie dead in his duty, and in the pit of Gladio's stomach he knew it was a grave meant for two.

"Lies," Noctis said, and his exhale emerged as a heavy shudder. He ran his hand through his hair and didn't dare glance at any of them. Prompto took a hesitant step forward, hovering. Slow, as if afraid of spooking him. He touched Noctis' shoulder but was immediately shrugged away, the prince's expression darkening. Crossing the room to be alone, Noctis wrapped his arms around himself. All watched him in equal silence. Prompto made no attempt to follow.

Gladio folded the paper with his still shaking hands and cleared his throat. He told himself his eyes did not burn. His teeth did not grind together unforgivably.

"Turn back?" He asked, and when he looked to his lover, Ignis looked to his prince - his king.

Quiet acceptance had Noctis' head hanging. He sank into one of the plush chairs but Gladio could see clearly it offered him no comfort. They already knew what needed to be done, but they had to hear the order from Noctis' themselves.

It came with the greatest reluctance. "Yeah," Noctis barely breathed. "Go home."

x

Less than twelve hours later they were camped outside the walls of Insomnia, isolated on the harsh plains. They strayed from the walls out of fear but even on the drive up they could see the rising smoke, curling into the late evening sky. Noctis had barely lifted his eyes let alone spoken while Ignis cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Prompto never looked up from his clasped hands. His camera remained at his feet.

Gladio pitched the tent in silence. No one dared to interrupt. Ignis tasked their charge with cleaning their camping equipment, sitting alongside him, gentle puns at the ready. Even then no smiles came. Not even groans of defeat. Something thrummed between them all. Gladio thought it might have been anxiety if he were capable of it. Only Ignis' hands were as steady as ever. He worked diligently and Prompto murmured into Noctis' ear. The glow of the havens underfoot provided them with limited light but they could not risk a campfire. Gladio worked in the darkness, going on autopilot. Losing himself in the routine was all too easy. The poles cracking together almost made him breathe easily.

When it was done, he settled himself down beside Noctis. By the time he finished they were done, the boys sitting pressed against one another. Their chairs were pulled close. Prompto had slung his arm around the back of Noctis', attentions on his phone as usual. Ignis still watched them, sparing whatever time he could from their meal. Skewers. Whatever meat they had left. It was the only meal they could all agree on, Ignis' attempt at satisfying them all. Nonetheless, few ate. Most managed half whereas Gladio had only three bites. Something inside made him deeply nauseous, antsy. He couldn't focus on his novel. The words squirmed and his frustrations only built.

Ignis gazed at him, but said nothing.

They slunk into their tent early. Barely allowing themselves time to clean up from their meal they moved in silence. As always Noctis settled down in the middle of the tent, expressionless. He liked the comfort of being surrounded, Gladio thought. His hands were pink from scrubbing the utensils.

Each of them neglected their sleeping bags and instead elected for thicker blankets; Insomnia nights bore a rainy chill frequently, a stark distance from their travels so far. It almost felt welcoming. Like a homecoming. Eager for warmth they adjusted themselves around Noctis. Ignis curled around him protectively, sacrificing a comfortable position for his closest friends' peace of mind. He pillowed his head against his rucksack, never removing his glasses until the very last moment. Noctis said nothing but leaned in towards him, expression melting into something far safer. The things Gladio would have done for that spot were considerable. Instead he took the space either side of Noctis - or he would have, had Prompto not squirmed between them, adamant to be sandwiched between his best friend and a human furnace. Gladio needed no pillow but he was set to become one. Prompto always nuzzled against whoever was closest and Gladio sighed. Even so he would not bicker. When he slung his own blanket over both of their legs Prompto smiled, catlike in his satisfaction.

It didn't take long for Prompto adjustment squirming to cease and he fell asleep in one of the most needlessly complicated positions Gladio had ever seen in his life - legs crossed, back bowed, arms twisted to serve as a pillow against Gladio's bulk. How he avoided severe back pain was a mystery. But he always slept temperamentally waking at the slightest of sounds. Once upon a time Noctis had slept like the dead. Even half a day’s travel was too much for his body. Tonight they all spent hours gazing up at the ceiling, tired to their souls but haunted.

Gladio watched over his charge, his friend, his lover. There too many thoughts plaguing his mind to find his own rest. He never shifted, not even when Prompto made his slow journey over Gladio's chest. He rain his hand gently up and down the boy's clothed spine, keeping him purring. Across the tent, Ignis watched with a tiny smile. Prompto had always been his softest spot.

The boys barely slept. Prompto sighed against him and Gladio was almost lulled to sleep by the sound of Noctis' soft breathing as he dozed on and off. He came in and out of light slumber, exhausted body stealing what rest it could. Despite the quiet, Gladio did not rest for a heartbeat.

For him there were too many potentials. Dozens of things lurked in the darkness, prowling the edges of the haven. Magitek soldiers, beasts, daemons, bandits. All manner of dangerous beasts and his group all at their most vulnerable. Gladio found himself listening for the softest noise - Ignis' sighs, the crackling of the plastic covers in the slight wind. Fear of the cold touch of nightmares kept sleep at bay.

And then thoughts of Iris returned to him in the middle of the night.

She had not followed him to the Citadel on the morning of their departure. It was a school morning, and Clarus often forbade her presence in the Citadel. She had pleaded and bargained but was met only with sharp words. It would have been foolish to press the matter. Tears would not sway their father, only infuriate him. Instead Gladio promised to visit her that morning, teasing, you wouldn't be up that early in the morning anyway. She struck him with a tiny fist, smiling. But it was faint and she sat sullen. The very last time the Amicitia family shared a meal it was in the heavy quiet, and what little words they shared brimmed with long overdue tensions.

As cramped as Gladio's chosen tent could be, it had been Gladio's choice. So little of Gladio's life was his and his alone and when Clarus offered the use of his - the one the king himself had spent his nights thirty years ago - he could not find it in himself to accept. The offer was made the afternoon before he was due to leave and somewhat haughtily, as if Clarus had not expected his son to be at all prepared.

He had in fact double checked everything, and recruited Ignis to do the same. There were sleeping bags and blankets for any weather event. Enough rations to last them weeks in the case of an emergency. Three slim paperbacks. His favourites, old and worn. He was more than prepared, and told his father such.

Perhaps it might have been comforting to have something so reliable. Acceptance might have pleased Clarus - made him smile, for once. It may have also been taken as an admission of ill prepared forgetfulness and angered him. With his father, it was impossible to tell. But Gladio would not start a fight on his last day home. For Iris' sake, he told himself.

Iris had always been clingy in the mornings. She had been a fussy infant and moreso as a schoolchild. Gladio expected her to grow out of it the closer to her teens she inched - almost hoping she would, secretly dreaming that she would remain small and safe in his arms forever - and she had not. That morning he had crawled out of Ignis' loving arms and climbed all those winding stairs of his family home to find her bedroom empty. For a moment his heart had stopped cold, but a frantic questioning of Jared and a search of the house found Iris, fast asleep, swallowed by the thick duvets on Gladio's kingsize. She took no pleasure in being awakened but clung to him, sighing. So small, so tired. Messy dark hair framed her little face and her eyes were soft and sleepy. In that moment she reminded him painfully of Noctis, all that vulnerability in an uncaring world.

Gladio thought of her, alone with their father and then trapped in a destroyed city, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.

His stomach churned hard. He was going to throw up - Gladio sat up abruptly without thinking and Prompto jerked awake, blue eyes in the darkness. Light shimmered at his hands, freshly summoned guns gleaming and Ignis close behind. Up, armed and expectant they looked to Gladio - the metal of Prompto's guns were freezing against Gladio's bare chest.

"What is it?" Prompto's voice was a mess. Words sounded like they emerged through mouthfuls of Galdin sand. "Is there something...?"

Their eyes were too much. Pushing Prompto aside, Gladio couldn't dig up the self awareness for guilt. He was heavier than Iris, didn't breath as harshly as they slept. Her lungs weren't strong enough. "It's nothing," He grit. His voice thankfully emerged stable. "I'm gonna go watch out."

From the corner of his eye he saw Prompto and Ignis exchange a glance. Gladio couldn't meet their eyes. When he got to his feet his dumped the blanket over Prompto fully. The tent had once been only warm. Now it was stifling. The plastic stuck to his feet as he crossed the tent hurriedly.

"Dude," Prompto began with a note of worry, but Gladio was gone into the fresh night air before he could continue.

It was darker than he remembered. The runes gave only a pathetic glow. There had been rainfall that pooled in the dips of stone and the clouds were thick and depressing above. Gladio could smell the promise of more. Soon, he thought. It made his skin prickle. Every breath chilled his lungs.

Somewhere over the wall was home. Somewhere there was family. Broken as it may have been in spirit and now body, it was all Gladio had. It spilled from his hands. Over him were all the constellations he thought Iris and the silly ones she had created to make him smile - all his favourites- hidden from view. Below was the cruel unfeeling ground that scratched and froze the unguarded pads of his feet. Somewhere between that unholy mess were his bones, feeling like they were carved from chips of ice.

There was nothing to see. From their vantage point there was no movement. There was barely even the wind. Only Gladio, and the thoughts of the family he had left to die.

There was no telling how long it was before Ignis was at his side. Gladio's eyes stung so fiercely he could not see, but he could hear Ignis' low hum from beside him. The rustle of the tent sounded so very far away but in only a second he could feel Ignis' warmth.

Gladio refused to look at him, keeping his eyes locked on the horizon. His fists clenched hard. Too many ugly images in his head warred for his attention. Destruction and cold bodies. The old and the young joined in death. His queasy belly clenched. He shoved it down. Spewing his guts wouldn't help anyone.

For a long time there was silence. Gladio fought the burning of his throat and eyes. With time rain began to patter. It fell slow and fine - the kind that soaked you slow. It touched you deepest; coldest.

A warm, rain water slick hand touched his. It ghosted around him fingers. "I'm sorry," Ignis said. His voice was low, quiet. His fingertips were hot and smooth. Almost reassuring.

There were no words. Gladio said nothing and instead focused on minor, senseless details. Words printed faraway on the city walls, so small he could not read it. A serial number, he thought. It bore no genuine interest.

The wind picked up for a moment. Ignis shivered on reflex. He slept only in boxers and a silk pyjama shirt. Gladio only wore his briefs but he could not feel a thing.

"Go back to bed," Gladio told him. Like Prompto's, his voice was painfully rough from disuse. It felt like glass, scratching where he was most vulnerable. A metal bottle lay in his rucksack filled with water. But Gladio refused to return. "It's cold out here."

"Not without you," Ignis said firmly, and with a single step he was almost too close. Offering his own warmth and taking Gladio's in turn, he pressed up against one arm. Ignis' chest rose and fell with each breath that brought Gladio comfort. There was no greater surety in drawing breath. All Glado had to do was to fight to keep what little remained to him safe. "Who will keep Prompto warm?"

When Gladio finally summoned the strength to simply turn his head Ignis wore a smile. Modest, but surviving. It even reached his still bright eyes. To his eternal shame, Gladio had no strength to return it.

He shrugged his shoulders. All he could bear to do was turn his hand so his palm graced Ignis'. Calloused, rough skin met that only flawed with papercuts. "Gotta stay awake. Keep you all safe."

Ignis brushed their palms together. Even so lightly and after their years together it still made unbridled happiness spark between them. It aided him and Ignis knew it, but Gladio couldn't be sure if his lover's presence was a comfort or a reminder of what Gladio stood to lose. His stomach felt empty and heavy all in equal measure. "We are safe tonight, love. Nothing will harm us here."

Disbelief had Gladio barking out a loud, humourless laugh. In the night in sounded like one of Prompto's wild bullets. He simply shook his head and Ignis sighed. At any other point he might have elbowed him, hushed him. Don't wake the boys. Men, barely younger than their retainers, but always boys in their eyes.

"We will have a long day tomorrow. Long, and difficult. You should sleep."

"We're going to have plenty of those days now," Gladio reminded him, as if he needed it. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Ignis pursed his lips. Those words carried a heady weight they had not before. Even if it went unspoken, they knew their duty all too well. It was Gladio's duty that haunted them the most. His final sleep, Gladio thought, may have been drawing in sooner than he ever thought. It would claim them all in the steady march of time. If Gladio had his way it would take his cherished ones last.

Rather than bicker, Ignis submitted. The wind had fallen but he still sapped Gladio's heat. Bowing his head he rest it on Gladio's shoulder. Those eyes Gladio treasured drifted shut, and his hand finally took his. Their fingers laced together. In his dark moments Gladio liked - dared - to dream that their hands fit perfectly, that they belonged together. 'We were made for each other'.

"Don't worry too much about Iris," Ignis spoke softly, and Gladio sucked in a breath. Ignis caught it, and carefully squeezed his hand, It was just like Ignis to read him so easily. For him, Gladio was glass. Thin, visible, breakable. "She has plenty of people looking out for her. I'm positive she's safe."

Dozens of people, all with fates unknown. Each one as strong and capable as the last but all loyal servants of Lucis - and if the king was dead, no doubt all were dead before him. "Right," Gladio said, thoughts with the Kingslaive. Some were barely older than him. He would have killed for Ignis' confidence.

A beat, and Ignis opened his eyes. Delight at the sight of his ocean eyes only embraced him for a second. "And your father..."

Ignis had seen it all. Most days too much. Clarus' lips pressed so thin they were white as fresh snowfall. Eyes like flint. Bruises on Gladio's skin yellow and purple, and Ignis had always fussed him in his horror. Plenty of times he raged but there was little one retainer could do again the sworn sword of the king. Gladio knew full well that in Regis' eyes, Clarus was still the friend he had known all his life. And friends did not hurt their children when your attention was elsewhere.

Clarus was a brute, a bitter old bastard - but he was Gladio's blood and he loved him. Somehow, Astral's only knew why, but Gladio's heart hurt just as his bruises did. A part of him wished he had never cared. Maybe then he would sleep easier at night.

It was Gladio's turn to close his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Another time, Ignis agreed, in a tone of voice that told Gladio that they would be speaking about it whether he liked it or not. It almost made him smile. What did was Ignis' thumb, brushing forward and back.

A little voice reminded him that they were damn near bare, out in the plains in the dark of night. Prompto could emerge and find them holding hands like teenagers, Ignis leaning against him in a way that colleagues and friends would never. It was risky. It was stupid. Neither of them pulled away.

"You're not alone in grief," Ignis told him, and with not even a single worried glance towards the tent he leaned up, pressing his lips to Gladio's chin, nuzzling the broad lines of his jaw. Ignis' scent overwhelmed him, became his world for one blissful moment. "You're not alone in loss. Remember that. Take what comfort you can in it."

I can't bother the kid, Gladio thought to say, misunderstanding.  Brows sinking into a frown he opened his eyes again - and Ignis' expression was pinched, his own brows taut. His eyes were listless, and when realisation dawned shame rolled through Gladio in waves. He winced. "Your uncle," He breathed. "Astrals. Ignis, I'm sorry."

Seraphim Scientia would be a sore loss. Not a fighter, not even much of a hero but he was a good man and that was what elevated them to greatness. He was one who deserved a kinder death than the one he no doubt suffered. He wasn't a parent, Ignis had sounded like he was wondering out loud, all those years ago. He busied himself with cleaning up the tea cup Seraphim had barely drunk. Gladio's first meeting with the man had been by chance and a flyby, the man only dropping off plates he had borrowed from Ignis for a dinner party. They had come back spick and span and even wrapped in bubble wrap. Gladio supposed it was in the Scientia blood. The tea had also only been offered and accepted out of some bizarre sense of Scientia hospitality. Gladio had gotten the impression of a flighty, unassuming man. But a shrewd one - the way he had looked between the two of them when Ignis haltingly introduced Gladio as his friend was only suspicious for a few terrifying moments. It was almost as if he knew about the way Gladio had warmed his bed the night before. He never intended to care for a child. It was obvious. But he stepped forward anyway. Kept me warm and fed, if not always emotionally secure. Ignis laughed at himself. Memories made his eyes soft and hazy. He's a good man. I care for him deeply. And I know he cares for me.

Now Ignis looked bone tired. He appeared so much older than his years. "He and I both knew the risks. I just don't think he realised the Empire would strike so..." When Ignis breathed it came out unsteady. It was all too easy to forget that Ignis had fears and doubts like any other. Since the moment they met he had seemed so infallible. He was the strongest of the two of them. If something were ever to happen to Ignis...

Their hands no longer felt like enough comfort. Gladio raised an arm to wrap around his slim shoulders. "We..." Ignis swallowed. He leaned into Gladio's chest. "We didn't speak before we left. Busy schedules. We lived on opposite ends of the city, too far to make time." Ignis' new smile was paper thin. "What an excuse to not see family."

Gladio could match his regret, pain for pain. It seemed like it would be their burden to carry until the end of days. "I'm sorry," He said again. No words felt enough or would come to him.

"As am I," Ignis returned, and the gentle rain began to thicken.

Its ferocity increased tenfold. The chill it brought promised stiff joints come the dawn. High above them the clouds moved slow. As at loathe Gladio was to slink back into the tent, lingering was a fool's choice. Strands of his hair began to stick to his forehead.

He turned to Ignis only to find those eyes locked on him. They had him faltering, and Ignis' voice had his heart unsteady.

"You understand we have to talk about this?" One of Ignis' hands reached up, rubbing against the tense lines of Gladio's shoulders. Almost every muscle ached unforgivingly. Gladio rumbled low in his throat, like thunder rolling down from the mountains. There was something about Ignis' hands that made him honest.

"I know." As much as he didn't want to admit it, communication was key. If they didn't work together perfectly an already shitty situation would only snowball, and quickly. Mistakes would be made. Having an impromptu therapy session about how he was feeling sounded like a shit show, but if Gladio couldn't be truthful Noctis would never be. Noctis took his emotional cues from him, as awful an idea as it was. Gladio knew too well he could work himself to emotional exhaustion, and Ignis could easily do the same trying to maintain his unique bond with Noctis. Gladio would not tear it down with his dishonesty. "But later. Altissia, maybe. When it's safe."

But Ignis shook his head. He drew closer yet, pressing another long line of kisses against his jaw. In the rain his skin was damp and hot. His honey coloured hair darkened to a muddy brew, something closer to his Ebony. "That's not what I mean."

Gladio rose a brow. As they dallied the weather grew more intense. Storms were frequent in Insomnia, even if the barrier protected them from the strikes themselves. It could protect them from Ramuh's rage, but not sometimes as chillingly human as the Empire.

Ignis tilted his head up. Their noses brushed together in an intimacy that blessed them so rarely. "We need to talk," He breathed, mind meltingly close to Gladio's lips. "About our plans. What we do in a crisis." Ignis breathed slow and heavy. In Gladio's arms the cold still made him shudder. "When we have to make difficult decisions for the sake of the group."

Yet another thing he didn't want to consider, but the responsibility lay at their feet. The life of a shield was one with precious few freedoms. Making the tough calls, letting one die for the good of the many. Maybe one day leaving Prompto or Ignis or both behind to shepherd Noctis across the sea, leaving them both to die in order for the line of Lucis to continue. Even if Noctis fought him the whole way or refused to speak to him again that was Gladio's job, and it soured him to his core. That day only came to him in his nightmares. It would not come to them while Gladio still lived.

Gladio steeled himself, and drew away. "Ignis-"

The hands on his biceps tightened. Ignis' face darkened. "Gladio-"

"Later," Gladio repeated with the firmness he usually reserved for new recruits, but Ignis would not be deterred.

"We need to," He said with a blunt edge. He still wore those glasses. Even with rain beading against them it made him stern. "And you know it."

He did. His father's rules for protecting the king in times of invasion were drilled into him. Clearly they had not worked. The fear of such failure festered inside him - Noctis was the last of royal blood. If he died, Gladio's entire life and every loss would be for naught. He would be the shield who let the last king die.

Thoughts of the Marshal came unbidden. A figure of respect, of ultimate strength. But all knew he was a broken idol. They murmured about him. What good was a Crownguard who had stood for two coronations and as many funerals? What would they say of Gladiolus Amicitia if he failed the last king; failed in his sole duty?

Sickness returned to him. It never wandered far. "Another time," He said, and something deconstructed in his tone filled Ignis' expression with fresh upset. "Please."

The grip on his biceps loosened. Ignis blinked slowly, lowering his gaze. But his lips brushed against Gladio's collarbone. The rain reminded them both of better times - running the Citadel stairs to the Regalia attempting to avoid a flash storm, each soaked to the bone but Ignis laughing with no shame. Or Iris, caught outside the city walls for the first time in a storm, cuddling close to her big brother for warmth. Gladio wondered what Ignis might be thinking of. Not for the first time, he didn't have a damn clue.

"Come to bed," Ignis asked of him again, and when he asked in that defeated tone who was he to disobey?

x

This time it was not the shittiest motel their side of Eos - it was the second, but Ignis still waited up for him.

In retrospect, Gladio should have known there was something awful awaiting him. Ignis had been a frugal gil pincher since the fall of the city, but he had happily parted with a few thousand gil for a run down motel off the main road. If not happily, then without obvious complaint. Two bedrooms, a double bed in each. Some part of Gladio still utterly enthralled by the way Ignis squirmed underneath him the first time they fucked assumed Ignis simply wanted the night alone with him. It had been too long and it didn't help that Ignis had kept shooting him glances through the rearview mirror all day. Gladio in turn had spent all afternoon adjusting himself, praying Prompto wouldn't see and dreaming of what he was going to do to his flexible, teasing lover.

And then he saw his face.

Too much of Gladio was ruled by his cock. He wasn't exactly confident that would ever change.

Ignis' face might have been perfectly composed to most but Gladio had a knack for finding people's unique tension spots. Ignis carried all of his stress in his jaw. He saw it every time passing nobles visited the Citadel and pried at Ignis' considerable patience. But Ignis had even stripped his gloves, folded one over the other and placed them to one side. His hands were laced together. It displayed yet another sign something played on his mind. His thumb pressed hard against the soft flesh of his palm.

Gladio stopped dead. Halfway through peeling off his tank again he hesitated. Uncomfortably sticky sweat clung to his back It didn't make his skin crawl half as much as the weight of Ignis' gaze.

They map they had left Insomnia with lay spread across the bed. By the light of one bedside lamp it was barely visible. Once it had been plain and neat. Now it bore Ignis' scrawls only legible to the man himself - camp, haven, foraging, Prompto's favourite photography spot - and Noctis' sloppy cactuar doodles. Tonight it received no love. Ignis sat up, pushing it away.

"There are things we must discuss," He said without delay, an apologetic pain leaking into his expression and the already oppressive force pressing down on Gladio's shoulders became that much more a burden.

All arousal dissipated. In only a moment it was like it was never there at all. Gladio resumed, slow and much less eager. The prospect of a motel's beds and showers held no allure. Gladio wondered if it was too late to flee.

"Can't it wait?" He tried. All of them were exhausted from a long trek across the highlands, hunting an elusive mark. In the end the payoff had not been worth the hassle. Their usage of curatives spread too far. Desperate talons claw deep in the final throes. "I'm tired."

Something about Ignis' looked delectable alongside nigh unapproachable. He wore his back up pyjamas, check shorts and no shirt. The rickety old air conditioning was on full blast. Small mercies.  With damp hair from the shower and pants low on his hips Gladio longed to kiss him. Something in his expression kept him across the room. "When will we have another opportunity like this?"

He was right. As always. Gladio loathed it. "Hopefully never, if your stink face means anything." Incensed already, he distracted himself with relief from the heat. Stripping with military efficiency was easy. All it took was a mind on autopilot. He was in no mood to make a show of it the way he knew Ignis liked, even though the man hated stroking Gladio's ego. Step by step he folded his tank, then his pants, then tucked his socks into each other the way Jared had shown him,. When done, he placed the pile right beside the bed. In an emergency in the dead of night, he could grab for the easily. "Long day, Iggy."

"I'm aware." Ignis watched him work. No hungry flame consumed him. He slowly shifted down the edge of their bed, the double size a blessing completely wasted. The toying of his hands never stopped. Like he had something to say, but no bravery to voice it. "This cannot wait, Gladio. As much as I wish we never had to have this terrible conversation."

Vulnerability was not Gladio's strong suit. He might have been standing as naked as the day he was born in front of the man who had seen him lazy and sloppy, bloodied and brimming with rage but that defencelessness was not what gave him pause. What disturbed him was the fragments of his heart. There were places he could go with none. Not even Iris. Barely even himself. In that moment he felt horrifyingly exposed, like he was nothing but a bundle of sensitive nerves that Ignis knew exactly how to play.

Inside his belly quivered. Gladio was sick and tired of dreading every moment with his lover thinking, what is this is it? Five years of them, even more of childish longing and Gladio found it impossible to believe that they found themselves here, battered and wounded in some nameless motel off a side road. In his dreams he had made plans for the two of them, sculpted around the fact they were practically fathers to a apathetic, barely out of his teens prince, but they were romantic as Gladio could make them. Traditional where Gladio could afford it. A simple marriage if Ignis was agreeable - Gladio was, Astrals, domesticity was what embraced him so kindly in dreams - and no children of their own. They both knew full well that any of Noctis' children would be practically theirs. Ignis would care for them like they were his own blood and Gladio would be the towering uncle who snuck them sweets before dinner, let them sit up on his shoulders. He would never be Clarus. Even if they could never announce themselves as such they would always be together, always be a team. Even if their duties made them prematurely grey and averaging three hours a night Gladio would remain forever loyal. Always loving and standing by him in spite of all.

But that assumed the possibility that Gladio wasn't killed in the line of duty, and Ignis' tentative eyes assured him that perhaps Gladio's forever was not Ignis'.

Gladio rumbled, somewhere between a growl and a groan. There was no way to busy his hands and the longer he stood the deeper the quiet became. Cracking his knuckles, ignoring Ignis' wince. He hated the sound more than anything but Gladio's body was agony itself. It battled with his exhaustion and neither emerged victorious.

There was no avoiding Ignis. Running was not the Amicitia way. Come what may he would not run from the man he adored, and he slid across the cool sheets. They may have been soft but provided no comfort.

Automatically Ignis turned on his side to face him. A deepening frown added years to his youthful face. He crawled the length of the bed to meet Gladio halfway, brushing the map to the floor. A rare moment of carelessness that had Gladio's blood running cold. Leaning against him, Ignis wrapped an arm around his wide shoulders. Every edge of Ignis was hard, all bone and firm muscle. Only his cheeks were soft and Gladio had to fight the urge to kiss them.

Ignis' touch assured him. If he had been entertaining any thoughts of ending their relationship he would not be doing so with an embrace. Ignis was not a cruel man by any means - practical to a fault, but he would not lure Gladio into a false sense of security. He even hummed, content enough to look ready to pass out by Gladio's side. There had been obvious wear and tear during the long drive to the motel, dull eyed. All Gladio wanted was to massage his shoulders, soothe the stress away. For the moment he didn't dare.

But this was not an end. At least not how Gladio had experienced them. Not for tonight.

Pressing a kiss to Ignis' damp hair instead, Gladio rumbled. He smelt like cheap conditioner. "Hit me with it," He braced himself for the worst by brushing his fingers against Ignis' stark jaw, losing himself in the softness of those cheeks and the prominent edge of bone. Settling back and letting his eyes drift closed he appreciated the mix of scents, sunshine and sweat. If this was one of their last moments together, he wanted to know everything about it. He would enjoy Ignis shamelessly.

Ignis shifted against him, even tilting his head into Gladio's touch like a kitten. There were even the beginnings of a smile though it died in it's infancy. One hand rest against Gladio's chest. It lay for his steady heartbeat. If it calmed Ignis he didn't say. "I don't know where to start."

He might have been a human furnace, but Ignis was a bundle of fire. Not too much. Just right, and Gladio loved to curl up next to him. He lost himself in his heat, the way his fingers rubbed against Gladio's chest. "Gonna tell me we gotta end this?" His voice emerged impressively unshaken. For the end of his world, he was remarkably collected. "For Noctis?"

There was a low intake of breath. Ignis' fingers curled, nails scratching against his undefended skin. "No - no, I-"

"You can't convince me you haven't at least considered it. Since."

A beat. The words sunk in slow and Ignis hesitated before he moved. His heat parted from Gladio's side as he sat up and Gladio struggled to pin down the beginnings of panic. His heart skipped beats to thunder ahead, thumping hard against his ribcage. It stole his breath, that alien ice of pain sparking through his blood.

"I..." For the first time Ignis stumbled over his words. Gladio's heart shrank down to hardly the size of a stone, battered and worn down in the unforgiving tide. "It would be better in the long run, perhaps. But..." Ignis' hands rubbed hard at his own face, like chasing away the remnants of a dream. "I think it would inflict worse damage, irreversible, and... I find myself unwilling to give up all I am for the family."

"Romantic," Gladio's tone held a healthy dose of sarcasm, and even as he basked in Ignis' heavy sigh he steamed ahead. "So if you're not leaving me, then what? We know our duty. And I'm delicate with Noct, as always."

Ignis' laughter ran hollow, disbelieving. "That's your idea of delicate?"

Setting his jaw, Gladio wrestled with his unforgiving temper. There was hardly any fabric between them. It would be all too easy for Gladio to kiss him hard, watch the strain of those powerful muscles and work him into silence. Ignis always melted into him. Sex was a better use of their time, a stress relief they both needed. Some extensive foreplay, a slow and intimate fuck, Gladio sinking inside Ignis' wet heat with their arms around the other. They didn't have to do this. Peace was within their reach.

"Is this what we're doing tonight?" Gladio asked. "Fighting?"

"No," Ignis relented, and the weight upon his shoulders seemed even heavier than Gladio's. "I just..."

When Gladio turned his head, Ignis' eyes were half lidded. He still caressed his chest. His lips parted in a sigh.

Guilt played at him, scratching hard. "I love you," Gladio told him. It didn't seem enough.

Those lips quirked. Ignis' eyes closed all the way but Gladio lay blessed with, "I love you too. Deeply."

Gladio did smile, all that sunshine and wild cherry brimming inside him. His hand moved from Ignis' jaw, running across his thin brows to his temple. He loved the little details, like the bump on Ignis' nose from a bad heal and the acne scars over his cheeks. He loved Ignis, and he could only feel terrified that Ignis didn't understand exactly how much. "C'mere, then."

Ignis squirmed around to kiss him fully, eager. His mouth moved hungrily and he threw a leg across Gladio's waist, seeking his comfort. It was too hot for such contact. Neither of them cared. Gladio caught him by the hips and egged him on.

The arousal returned, but as if Ignis knew he slowed their kiss. Gladio's thumbs rubbed hard at what skin Ignis left exposed. It made him soften, muscles laxing. They had to pull away much as Gladio longed to distract him. It would come another day. It always did.

When Ignis licked his lips, he left them damp and swollen. Gladio could have woken up to that sight every morning and it still wouldn't have been enough. Only the ache of his lungs prevented Gladio from stealing him away once more. Instead, he brushed their noses together sweetly. Their foreheads rest together.

"I'm going to keep him safe," Gladio promised, and the words felt worn. It was a promise he had made a thousand times. Now it felt like only false platitudes. Each time he had meant it, and each time it rang a little more hollow. “I know you love him. I’ll fight the whole damn world to keep him alive. I swear to you.” Reaching out, Gladio framed Ignis’ face in his hands. It felt small and fragile in comparison but Gladio’s touch was always cautious. “I promise on my honour as an Amicitia and my love for you.”

Ignis reached up to hold his wrist, brushing his pulse point. Turning his head, he pressed the briefest of kisses to Gladio’s palm. "Then I know it's true. But I need a more solemn vow."

"Anything," Gladio agreed, with confidence bordering on arrogance. His thumbs traced lines on Ignis' face. They had unforgiving power and he had broken bones, bruised and battered faces beyond recognition. Gladio knew this was his most gentle, his most loving. He could be a killer, but Ignis and Iris both knew how soft he could be. The day a bruise of his making bloomed on their faces would be a dark day indeed.

The familiarity made Ignis sink into Gladio, teeth grazing his lower lip. He could hear Ignis’ low intake of air, drawing in Gladio’s scent. He found himself wondering what it was. It couldn't have been pleasant with the events of the day. Too much sweat. With a pang of embarrassment, Gladio regretted leaving the shower until morning.

It tickled to have Ignis’ face tucked into his throat but Ignis’ lips were soft, persistent. Between words, he kissed the tight cord of muscle. “You know we need to protect Noct.” Each word came out slower than the last. Each kiss lingered longer. “And sometimes that means sacrifices. You know this.”

All those constellations, the ones Gladio looked to in the Regalia and counted, naming them all, tracing them with his fingers, remembering Iris’ laughter. That was the only good thing about their situation - they had a hell of a view wherever they went, and the stars would always guide them when lost. Gladio knew sacrifice. He was faced with it whenever he looked skyward.

Ignis continued. His voice was almost comforting. Those fingers over his heart kept on tracing lines. Back and forth. Gladio could half imagine he might be lulled to sleep. “I need you to agree,” He murmured, and Gladio was almost at peace for one blissful moment. “I need you to vow that if something happens, if there’s an attack, anything, you will leave Prompto or I behind. No daring rescues. No searches. You’ll have to go.”

Gladio’s stomach was bottomless. He released Ignis’ face as if the flesh scalded him.

Somehow, he managed words. How was beyond him. It seemed like the sheets had been pulled out from under him, the world had been cast aside and he was still expected to keep in living. Even the things he had taken for granted seemed suddenly so far out of reach.

He sat up. “Ignis-”

Hands shot to his shoulders and pushed him back down. They were firm and unforgiving, and when Gladio tried to squirm free they would not give him satisfaction. Ignis kept talking, like he had never moved. “If you have any reason to think we’re dead - if we're lost, you can't find us, you have to move on. You have to promise me that.”

“Ignis, no,” Strangled, lost, Gladio shrank back onto the mattress. For one if the first times in his life he felt very small. Ignis towered over him, eyes piercing. His hold was almost unbreakable. Gladio knew he could break free with ease, but he would never use his brute force against his lover in such a way.

“You have to get Noct to Altissia.” Certainty made his voice rough. There was almost no room for argument. Gladio would find a way to wriggle through the cracks.

“That’s not fair-”

“Has anything been fair, Gladio?” Ignis’ brows furrowed low. Worry lines etched deeply across his forehead. “From the moment this journey began? From the moment we fell in love and had to hide it? You’ve known this. You always have. Since the moment we lost Insomnia in the rear view mirrors we knew is was a possibility but we never once talked about it. Never thought things would be this way. That was a mistake. We have to make this vow.” Ignis left no wriggle room. There was no moment free to protest. Gladio listened, sickened. “In the same way that I’d have to leave Prompto. The same way I’d have to leave you.”

Gladio had never been good with words. Currently, he felt like he had never been taught them at all. “Would you do it?”

There was only a moment full of doubt. “Yes,” Ignis said, too quickly for Gladio’s comfort. His expression released, relaxed, but his eyes were suddenly wet. No tears felt, but the seaglass green glistened. “As much as it would kill me, as much as I’d hate myself, I would. Noct is the future. Noct is our future. We can’t throw that away for something as, and I’m sorry, Gladio, but something as inconsequential as us.”

Those hands still gripped him tight. Ignis leaned into him, chest pressing against his as if trying to keep him down with his entire weight. His eyes were wide and aching and Gladio could only hold his gaze for a few seconds. There was too much inside them. Gladio could never face his truth.

His breath shuddered. The room was deadly quiet. He had not realised how loudly they were speaking until they ceased, and he prayed Noctis had not heard. Often he could hear giggling and bickering through the walls. Tonight he heard nothing.

He swallowed. His tongue felt too thick for his mouth. Useless and charmless. Unweilding. “Tell me you love me,” Gladio barely managed with a child's desperation.

Ignis bowed his head. When he blinked, one tear trailed down his cheek. It was the only one he would permit himself. “I do. I do, Gladio. Never doubt that.”

Gladio scoffed. That familiar bitterness resided deep inside him. Even now it lingered, never rising to the surface but making its presence known. “Kind of hard not to.” His heart had never thrummed so hard, with such fear.

“Please,” Helpless, wounded, Ignis tried to catch his eye. Gladio was not so willing. “Please. I love you. More than anything. But we have to go on, even in loss. I need to know that you won’t destroy everything we’ve sworn ourselves to if something happens. I need you to promise me.”

As much as Gladio knew it was right, it sat inside him like concrete. He could already feel the devastating loss. The thought of losing Ignis and feeling that cold rock forever daunted him. As always, anger rose in the stead of fear. An Amicitia feared nothing. His cold blood froze traitorous. “Not even a chance to look for you? Just abandoning you like you're nothing?”

“There will be no time,” Ignis began, but Gladio’s rage was fickle. It ebbed in and out alongside desperation.

“Two days,” Begging was not his style. He refused to believe it escaped his tongue even as his despair filled the room to its edges. “Just two days to try. No guns blazing, no infiltrating Empire drop ships or whatever - just searching. Five years, Ignis! You have to give me those two days at the very least.”

Ignis shot a worried look at the wall behind them, where the boys rest their heads. Gladio’s voice had become a frightful boom. “It's a waste of your time-”

“It's not a fucking waste,” Gladio burst. For a moment, he thought Ignis might draw away. He didn't, but one last tear joined the other, dripping from his jaw. Gladio supposed he promised himself each one was his last. “I love you, love you all. I need all of you.” He had made that clear. Hadn't he? With every sharp word meant to guide them, with every painful training session? “And Noct needs all of us.”

Ignis bore his teeth in a grimace. Perfect, practically gleaming. For once he dropped his gaze down to their feet. Gladio could almost hear the gears in his head turning, grinding, working too hard. A part of him wanted to settle back down and brush his fingers through his hair. Another wanted to cross the room, spend all that pent up energy inside. Gladio wondered if he still had the right to touch or walk away.

With time - minutes, an hour, it all felt the same to Gladio - Ignis looked up again. His jaw was set firm. Gladio had never wanted to be the source of all that tension. “One day,” Ignis said, voice harsh. His frustration was all too evident. “One day to check. That’s all.”

It wasn’t enough. Twenty four hours of panic and confusion would only make Gladio lose his mind. Every second that trickled by would be wasted in his human fragility. “Two. I can’t push Noct for twenty four hours trying to find you or Prom. Two days. Time enough for a search and for rest. You know how much he hurts.”

Ignis’ temper flared up to match Gladio’s. Both of them were fire, and scalded anything in their path. “Why are you being so bloody difficult?” He shoved at Gladio’s shoulders hard. Even then it barely budged him. His scowl pulled at his mouth and his brow, the kind he only got when someone tried to undercut him on a topic they knew nothing about - Noctis’ illness, usually - and he darkened. The already dismal mood of the room dropped, like ice.

“If you must,” He said, like time was something Gladio should never dared asked for. In the end, Gladio knew it was all they had. “Two days search. No antagonizing Imperials. And that’s all.”

“Fine by me,” Gladio lied, as hot as he could manage. His chest still felt hollow. Somehow the silence from the other room was deafening. Part of him prayed they were fast asleep, but he doubted it. Settling back against the bed he crossed his arms across his chest, turning away from his lover. Ignis lay stiff as a board, clearly unhappy, and they matched each other grievance for grievance.

Tomorrow was going to be eventful. The guardians would not be on speaking terms and they would snark at each other all day, as always. Fortunately Prompto was the type to cover his head and wait out the worst of it. Less so, Noctis was the type to try get away with daylight robbery while his retainers were too busy acting out. It would take teamwork to keep him under control. Teamwork they would sorely lack. All this to keep their future king safe.

Gladio sighed, and smoothed a hand over his face. Fighting with Ignis was never pleasant. While he would never admit it he had a petty streak. Gladio had one two, and it was like children fighting on the playground. Children with broken hearts and twenty years of condition. Gladio’s years of longing, his fears of losing it all. Never before had failure seemed like such a possibility.

“Goodnight, then,” Ignis said tersely, half with his back to him, no I love you, no I’ll dream of you and Gladio couldn’t keep himself under control anymore.

"I knew you'd break my heart, you bastard," Gladio murmured, unsteady and distant and wounded and he watched nothing truer than agony fly across Ignis’ face. That tension freed, but was only to be replaced with pain. All his anger burnt out and only ash remained.

Ignis turned to him, cheeks still wet with his tears. Gladio fought to keep his expression neutral but Ignis saw through him - he always could, like he was nothing at all. He sighed, the sound almost breaking into a whimper. It was like no sound he had ever heard Ignis make before. “Come here, my love,” He called, raising his arms, waiting for Gladio to sink into him.

“Forget about it,” Gladio returned, voice sulky like a teenager denied. He moved to squirm away but then Ignis was upon him, drawing his lover into his arms with determination. “Ignis. Stop.”

There was no weight behind his words. Ignis leaned up against him, warm and bare, and despite himself Gladio could feel his body heating up, something stirring in his stomach. Ignis’ kisses seared the skin of his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Ignis said, and it touched Gladio to his festered core. “I don’t mean to be cruel. I’m sorry.”

Helpless, they lie together. Gladio still showed his back and Ignis smoothed a hand down the muscle, and then up. Up and down, like he had when Gladio drank too much on his last birthday. He remembered that headache and Ignis’ laughter - affectionate, only appropriately chagrined.They could be good to each other. They could be exactly what they needed. For now, they just couldn’t be lovers.

“I can’t,” Gladio said, and his voice came thick. No part of him understood himself. “I just can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Ignis rest his forehead against Gladio’s nape, sweaty as it was. The room was humid and fraught with their tension. “I understand. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Glado wondered when all of their conversations became so repetitive, like they were fighting to reassure themselves. His tongue swept over his dry lips. Their double bed suddenly felt like the span of a thousand miles. “Should get an early night. Long day ahead.”

All days were long. When Ignis’ hand against Gladio’s spine froze before finally drawing away, their prospects felt a little darker. Soon, Ignis’ presence was almost entirely gone. “Yes. You’re right.” He cleared his throat, awkward in the quiet. The rattling of the air conditioning was beginning to get on Gladio’s last nerve. “I will rise early. Wake up Noct so we can get a head start.”

There was nowhere to go. They still wandered aimlessly, living on the gil they earned mark to mark and dreaming of the sea that might draw them to a place that wasn’t home. But it could be. Noctis’ future called him from across the distant shore, but it seemed they had no intentions of answering. But pointing it out would be cruel, and enough pain had been bared, and so Gladio shrugged. “Alright.”

He didn’t bother sliding under the covers. The late evening air was too constrictive. His limbs felt too heavy anyway, like they were moulded from wet clay. Ignis moved from behind him, so silent Gladio had to strain even to hear the sheets. He settled against the pillows, barely breathing, almost apologetic. Maybe even his guts twisted like Gladio’s did.

Minutes passed. Gladio counted each second, praying they might push him to sleep. When he reached the three hundred and sixty fourth second, Ignis spoke.

“Gladio?” Ignis asked, as if there was anyone else in the room with them.

Gladio did not respond. Knowing full well Gladio wasn’t asleep, Ignis steamed ahead.

“You didn’t make that promise,” Ignis said, and his voice was apologetic, uncharacteristically small. Gladio wondered how he looked. He could imagine him with his loose hair falling into his face, giving him a painfully vulnerable look. Like he was eighteen again. Those years felt so far away.

Gladio’s fingers flexed on reflex. What he wouldn’t give for something to pummel, an agent of the Empire to make squeal. They forced them to become this. Gladio would be given his satisfaction, one way or another. But truly defeated, he closed his hand into a fist. “I promise.”

Fingers at his lower back again, the tips at his tailbone. Another hand reached over Gladio’s hips, finding the hand that still lay relaxed. “Two days?”

"Two days," Gladio agreed, and he sealed the worst vow of his life with a simple squeeze of Ignis’ clammy hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, at larsasolidor! All about that final fantasy xv/xii life.


End file.
